


what the night is thinking

by procrastinatingbookworm



Series: Little Beast (Jonah Week 2020) [7]
Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Asexual Character, Asexual Maxwell Rayner, BDSM, Bets & Wagers, Hubris, M/M, Multi, Sensory Deprivation, Trans Jonah Magnus, Trans Male Character, Under-negotiated Kink, disclaimer: negotiate before you scene!, i should tag all my jonah fics as hubris
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:01:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24825730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/procrastinatingbookworm/pseuds/procrastinatingbookworm
Summary: From his jacket, Rayner pulled a scrap of black cloth. It was unremarkable, except for the fact that it was black only at first glance. On a second glance, it became clear that it was darker than black, sucking all light from around it.Without fanfare, he wrapped it around Jonah’s face, tying it tightly.“What can you see?” Maxwell asked, his voice low and dangerous.“Nothing,” Jonah replied, but the sneer had gone from his voice.
Relationships: Barnabas Bennett/Jonah Magnus, Jonah Magnus/Maxwell Rayner, Jonah Magnus/Other(s)
Series: Little Beast (Jonah Week 2020) [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1788130
Comments: 8
Kudos: 29
Collections: Jonah Magnus Week 2020





	what the night is thinking

“I simply don’t see the sustainability of it, Maxwell,” Jonah insisted, shifting just a little further forward on the settee, so much so that he was in genuine danger of slipping off completely. “One can simply… light a candle, or turn on the gaslight, and the fear disperses.”

“For every moment the light is absent, the fear grows,” Maxwell Rayner replied, his knuckles going pale on the head of his cane. “If one fears being watched, one must simply look behind, and they will see they are not.”

“But anyone could be watching,” Jonah shot back, voice low, but rising. “From anywhere. What lives in the dark can only hide in the dark. When the sun rises it has no power.”

“Until the sun sets again.” Rayner gave a pointed glance to the candles and gas lamps around the room, holding the dark outside the windows at bay. “To know that you will soon have to face what you fear is a more exquisite terror than the act of facing it itself.”

“Until you turn on the light,” Jonah said, sitting back, leaning into Barnabas Bennett’s side. “Wouldn’t you say, Barnabas?”

Barnabas shrugged and took a sip from his whiskey glass. “It is in the nature of man to be afraid of the dark, more so than to be afraid of judgement.”

Jonah scowled at him, half-teasingly. “You traitorous wretch.” He grabbed Barnabas’ glass from his hand and stood up, stumbling.

“Jonah,” Barnabas said, in the tender, warning tone of one accustomed to such performances. “Behave yourself.”

“I shan’t!” Jonah declared, draining the glass, turning it over, and setting it triumphantly on the table. “Maxwell Rayner, I challenge you to a wager.”

Rayner raised one grey eyebrow and leaned forward. “Oh?”

“For one… _extensive_ sexual favor, of your choosing, performed either by me or on me, if you can make me fear the Dark.”

It felt as though the temperature in the room dropped by several degrees.

“And if you win?” Rayner asked.

“A kiss.” Jonah beamed triumphantly, holding out his hand to shake. “Just a kiss, Mister Rayner, as I’ve never had the pleasure of it from you before.”

“Few have,” Rayner replied, and shook Jonah’s hand. He stood up from the armchair and walked to the empty center of the room. “Come here, and kneel in front of me.”

Jonah bared his teeth, but he went, kneeling at Rayner’s feet.

Barnabas sighed audibly, but the rest of the room held its breath.

From his jacket, Rayner pulled a scrap of black cloth. It was unremarkable, except for the fact that it was black only at first glance. On a second glance, it became clear that it was _darker_ than black, sucking all light from around it.

Without fanfare, he wrapped it around Jonah’s face, tying it tightly.

“What can you see?” Maxwell asked, his voice low and dangerous.

“Nothing,” Jonah replied, but the sneer had gone from his voice.

Maxwell paced in a circle around Jonah, his steps light, cane hefted in one hand. Jonah’s head turned, trying to track him, with no success.

Just as Jonah inhaled, Maxwell struck him with his cane across the back of his shoulders, without even a moment of hesitation or a breath of hesitation.

Jonah shrieked. The room was very quiet—everything else had stopped, to watch Rayner and Jonah play.

“That’s unfair,” Jonah whinged. “You’re teaching me to fear the Dark, not _you._ ”

“Would you have been frightened if you had been able to see?” Rayner spun the cane in his hand, and it _whooshed_ through the air, next to Jonah’s face. He flinched.

“Startled, not afraid,” Jonah said, pouting slightly. “This isn’t very terrifyi—”

He was cut off by another yelp of pain, this time as Rayner slammed the cane-tip down on his calf.

“You’re just proving my point!” Jonah’s voice had gone up an octave, face scrunching up with frustration and pain. “The Dark’s nothing to fear, only what might be _in_ it.”

“What’s the difference?” Rayner replied, from behind Jonah.

Jonah’s head turned toward him, before a rough palm struck him, knocking his head back to center.

“ _Un_ fair, Mordechai.” Jonah snapped, but his lower lip was wobbling. “I didn’t invite you to this.”

“Anything can be in the Dark,” Rayner answered. 

Mordechai didn’t say a word.

Jonah had gone very pale, except for the red on the tip of his nose, and the handprint across his cheek.

Someone kicked Jonah in the side of the leg, another hand ruffled his hair. Slowly, everyone in the room had risen as one, circling around him, either playing in earnest or following along.

No one had much against Jonah Magnus himself, at least nothing they would say out loud, but he himself would admit that he was arrogant, self-important, and increasingly under the Eye’s sway.

A chance to put him in his place was a chance most of Smirke’s little club would take in a heartbeat.

It wasn’t clear who first reached beyond pain, who first stepped close to seize a chance with the blinded Jonah.

It might have been Barnabas who unbuttoned Jonah’s shirt and slid it off his shoulders. It might have been Mordechai who lifted Jonah by the waist, it might have been George who slid Jonah’s trousers and drawers down while he was held aloft.

It might have been Rayner who buried a hand in Jonah’s hair and pulled his head back, it might have been Robert who kissed his throat. It may have been Sampson who gripped him by the wrists and bent him backward, it might have been Jonathan who buried his face between Jonah’s legs.

It might have been Jonah who wept, who begged for mercy, but Jonah never called for it to stop. 

It might have been his friends and lovers, their hands crawling over him, pulling at his clothes and hair, scratching at his skin, touching his cock, making use of him.

It might have been. It might just have been something from out of the Dark.

It was a long time, or maybe barely any time at all, before someone pulled the blindfold off.

Rayner, the only one Jonah could see or feel, leaned in, kissed him, and smiled.


End file.
